The Newcomers: Book Two
by Fyrie
Summary: The Continuation of the Newcomers Story
1. The Newcomers: Book 2 - Part 1

Pushing the chair out from the desk, Sylvia brushed her greying honey-blonde hair back from her face, sighing , her fingers drumming impatiently on her desk, as she waited for the familiar click and whirr of her computer shutting down

Pushing the chair out from the desk, Sylvia brushed her greying honey-blonde hair back from her face, sighing , her fingers drumming impatiently on her desk, as she waited for the familiar click and whirr of her computer shutting down.

Glancing at the pile of paperwork that had accumulated on the floor beside the chair, she grinned sheepishly. No wonder she had been laid off. But she didn't care anymore. Ever since her ex-husband had gotten full custody of their three children, she hadn't cared about anything at all.

It hadn't been fair at all. Her husband had accused her of all sorts of terrible things and since she had had that drinking problem – for barely three months – they believed him over her. No one believed she didn't batter her children. No one believed she was a good mother. No one believed anything she had to say.

As she pushed herself to her feet, there was soft thump of something falling to the floor and she bent to pick it up: A picture of herself and her wonderful children in happier time.

Tear accumulated quickly in her eyes, as she stared sadly at the smiling, happy faces of her babies. They were all so beautiful, so easy to love. And they were no longer hers.

Discarding the frame on the desk, she brushed her fingertips across her cheeks, sweeping away the hot tears impatiently, her eyes burning. All she ever wanted was to be a mother and to be loved for who she was. Now she had nothing.

Shuffling across the floor, she scooped up her bundle of playbills, wandering over to the leather couch and sinking down onto it, comforted by the thought of the non-judgemental pictures of the casts of her favourite musical.

Only an hour or so, she realised, before she was meeting up with several of her closest CATS-friends online to discuss what she should do, now that she was thirty-nine, divorced, unemployed and falling into a black depression. 

None of her old friends understood the appeal the online world had for her. They couldn't see that people didn't judge on how you looked, what you had done. Instead, they – like many other people – just wanted friends.

They would be there to tell her everything would be all right in the end, that they were always her friends, they wouldn't criticise her for being a bad mother…but they still couldn't take all the pain away.

Staring blankly at the photographs, Sylvia rubbed her eyes wearily. She knew what she wanted to do. And she knew she would never do it, but she could think about it. Oh, how she would think about it.

*

Clutching his swollen jaw, nineteen-year-old Timothy Henlan stumbled into his room, his eyes filling with bitter tears. 

Parents shouldn't be allowed to do that to their children, he muttered angrily. No child should be beaten by their parents. Especially not when those children weren't even children anymore! What gave his father the right to do this to him?

Throwing himself into his seat, he wiped a trickle of blood from his nostril, cursing under his breath. If only he had been stronger and bigger, he would show his father who was boss…that was for damn sure!

Brushing his dreadlocked ebony hair out of his eyes, he sighed, his nut-brown skin skin darkening more, bruises staining his jaw and brown eyes a horrible blackish colour.

Dabbing at the ongoing stream of blood with a scrap of tissue paper, he winced, blinking the stinging tears away again. He would NOT show his pain. That was something he would never give his 'father' the satisfaction of seeing.

Hitting the power switch of his computer, he sat back with a bored groan, waiting for the screen to illuminate with that comforting familiarity. He would find his friends there. Friends that didn't use him or hate him. 

"Are you going on that damn internet again?" The hoarse, slurred voice bellowed from downstairs.   
"No, dad." Timothy responded bitterly. "I'm not, you must be hearing things again…I would _never_ disobey you."

Ignoring the mumbled curses and sputters from downstairs, he listened to the buzzing of the computer connecting him to the net and smiled with smug satisfaction. He could do what he liked now. His father was too drunk to give rat's ass.

  
  
*  


Giggling down the phone, Kimberly and Joely exchanged gossip eagerly, chatting away in the way teenagers are prone to do.

The two were best friends, both happy-go-lucky, pretty teenagers. They had spent the previous summer together when Joely had traveled from Ireland to spend 3 months with Kimberly in sunny California. 

Both girls were extremely popular and confident, always surrounded by an adoring gaggle of friends and admirers. Sporty and into dance in a big way, the two blonde girls could easily have been mistaken for twins, despite the fact they were from opposite sides of the world. 

Now, they maintained contact the way they had started out. Using the internet and telephone, the duo's friendship cost their family more than they even cared to imagine. 

The pair had met in a chatroom and – thanks to a mutual adoration of the musical CATS – had gotten to be the best of friends and had remained so for well over three and a half long years and many horrifically long phonebills later. 

"I'll beat you there, Mercedes!" Kimberly reverted to Joely's nickname.

There was a wicked laugh down the phone, as Joely shifted to her computer. "Over my dead and putrifying body, Misty!" She retorted.

Switching on their computers simultaneously, they giggled madly, saying goodbye, before hanging up and starting the frenetic race to get to the chatroom first, were they knew they would drag their other friends into the fight to say who got their first.

*

Jordan Bailey swung out of his car with a yawn, his briefcase gripped firmly in one hand, his pin-striped jacket draped over his other arm, the smell of the office and the stench of the city lingering on him. 

"I'm home." He kicked the front door open and smiled tiredly as the avalanche of kids engulfed him, one snagging his briefcase and lugging it away up the stairs, another taking his coat while two struggled to pull off his shoes simultaneously. 

A young woman came through from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a damp cloth, a smile on her face. Rising on her toes, she kissed him fondly, her dark red hair falling loose from the confines of the elastic band that pulled it back from her pretty face. 

"The kids'll be off soon." She lead him through to the kitchen, the savoury scent of the bubbling contents of her pans and oven filling his nostrils, his mouth watering in eager anticipation. 

"And then do we eat?" Plucking the hot lid off one of the pan dexterously, he quickly dipped his finger into the sauce, yelping in surprise as the back of a wooden spoon smacked him firmly on the back of his hand.

Sticking his sauce-covered finger in his mouth, he turned to his young wife sheepishly, blinking his dark blue eyes innocently at her.

"Yes," She sighed in exasperation. "We eat…if you plan to leave any of our dinner to finish cooking…"   
Sliding his arms around her waist, he nuzzled her neck teasingly. "I know what I'd rather snack on." He murmured, pulling the loose band out of her hair and burying his face in the wonderful cascade of red. 

Muffling a giggle, Maria continued to stir the contents of the pot, even though they didn't need stirred. Anything to distract her from the teasing of her black-haired husband's lips on her neck.

Behind them, their young charges sat in front of the tv, watching Maria's favourite video for the fifth time that week. 

"Memory, turn your face to the moonlight..." Singing along softly, she smiled, her brown eyes crinkling as Jordan joined his voice with hers in his deep tenor. "Let your Memory lead you...open up enter in...if you find there..."

"Mr Bailey!" One of the kids called. "We can't hear the video!"

Grinning impishly, he stuck his head around the door with a feigned-shocked expression and remarked. "Oops!"

The youngest of the kid stuck his tongue out at Jordan, hiding a naughty grin behind his hand as Jordan returned the gesture before jumping back to his wife's side, giving an agonised groan as the phone rang in the hall. 

"Y'ello?"

Leaning around the doorframe, he called to his wife. "Hey! Maria, its Kristian!"

Maria laughed. "Tell that cheeky viking that he said he'd phone a long time back…tell him he's still a stinkin' liar!"

There was a laugh from the other end of the line and Jordan grinned. "He says its nice to hear that you're as charming and witty as ever."

Kristian had been the man that had introduced the couple, seven years previously, when they were all attending a conference in London and the massive blond Norweigian had also been Jordan's best man when they had wed four years later.

"When are ya going to be in London again?" Jordan was asking merrily. "We haven't seen CATS in ages…"

"Not since the tour decided to disappear before it started." Kristian agreed lightly.

"How long ago was that?"

There was a moments silence until Kristian replied. "I think it would be about six and a half months now."

Jordan whistled through his teeth, running one hand through his unruly black hair. "Are you gonna be online tonight, mate?" He enquired, loosening his shirt. "Its just that my dinner is almost done and you know how stroppy Maria gets if I'm not ready to eat when she is."

Kristian laughed. "I should be on in about an hour, if that's enough time for you to make a pig of yourself again."

"I think that she be enough." Jordan chuckled, ignoring the glare that Maria sent his way. "Talk to ya later, my friend."

Hanging up, he returned to the kitchen to promptly receive a slap on the rear.

"What was that for?" He wailed in an injured tone, clutching at his stinging buttocks. "I didn't do anything!"

"You deserved it." Maria jutted her chin out, turning her back on him. "And don't think you're going online before me, mister…my computer, my choice!"

Grinning, Jordan murmured. "We'll see, my love, we'll see."

*

Brushing a lock of blue-black hair out of his eyes, Tadashi sighed impatiently. The system had been operational half an hour ago, but one of the students had managed to crash the entire network somehow and it was up to him to find out how.

Behind him, Hiroko sat typing quietly on one of her numerous laptops, waiting for him to finish work, her lips pursed in concentration as her fingers fairly flew across the keyboard.

"How are you doing?" She asked, never breaking the frenetic pace of her typing.

Sitting back with a sigh, Tadashi rubbed the back of his neck. "Did I ever tell you how much I really hate students?"

"Actually," She replied with a smile. "You seem to repeat it like a chant every single day…I'm surprised the other tutors haven't turned you into some kind of religious Icon for the religion of 'studenthatism' and make you chant with them every morning."

"A religious icon?" He repeated thoughtfully, taking off his glasses to rub the barely perceptible film of dust off. "Now there is a fine idea. Its not as if I don't deserve it."

Shaking her head with a laugh, Hiroko glanced out of the wide windows at the skyline of Tokyo, gazing down at the ant-size figures moving along the streets between the sky-high buildings.

Clicking on the internet icon, she shut her typing down and swivelled her chair round to face him as she logged on. "Mind if I do a little surfing?" She enquired, grinning as he pretended to attack the computer with a samurai sword.

"Go ahead." Slumping down in his chair, he kicked the desk in annoyance. "Doesn't look like I'll be doing anything that interesting for some time."

Tapping the access code in, she tossed her braid carelessly over her shoulder, glancing back at the weary face of her friend. He always got stuck with the jobs no one else wanted to do. And he deserved a break. A good, long break.

*

"Good…keep your leg straight…yes…" Clapping in time with the music, Jenna nodded approvingly as Kristov pirouetted, then flipped into a back-flip with a half-twist and landed neatly on his feet.

His hands on his hips, he bent double, inhaling a slow breath as he straightened up. His dark blond, sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his scalp as his caught the bottle of water his trainer tossed to him.

"Was that okay?" He picked his words carefully.

"Top class, mate." She grinned, slapping him fondly on the back. The young Russian smiled shyly back at her snatching his towel and roughly rubbing his hair dry.

The duo were working together in a small training school in Saint Petersburg, in Russia. Jenna had traveled from Australia to work with some of the up and coming talent of the Russian ballet schools, having been a dancer and acrobat for much of her life.

Sometimes, she wondered why she hadn't bothered learning Russian before she came to this wonderful country. It might have helped, she mused ruefully, re-fastening the net around her long, ginger hair.

More often than not, she had Tatiana to help her. Her fellow-dance instructor was the least Russian-looking woman that Jenna had seen in a long time. Hardly surprising, since she was half-Jamaican, half-Belarussian. And she was due in any moment.

Sauntering into the room, her body swaying to some unheard reggae beat, the beautiful black dancer rocked lightly on her feet, her body as flexible as a rubber band as she wiggled her hips, her eyes closed as she danced to the rhythm of her own silent music.

Despite the chill in the room, she only wore the slightest of leotards, every muscle in her toned body rippling as she stepped this way and that, under Jenna and Kristov's fascinated gazes.

The woman was a natural dancer. At twenty-three, she was six years younger than Jenna, and six years older than Kristov, yet she got on with both in equal terms, counting them both as great and loyal friends.

"How'd it look?" She enquired, spinning to a halt in front of Jenna, flashing her dazzling white grin at her friend.

Half-shaking her head, half-nodding, Jenna gave a weak smile. "Annoyingly good." She admitted ruefully. "You'd be a natural Bombalurina."

"And you'd be my Dem, huh?"

Jenna shrugged. "Played her already…but if Kris here was Macavity, I wouldn't want to complain."

"You think I could be in CATS, like you, Jenna?" Kristov asked shyly, his deep brown-green eyes curious.

"Sure you could!" Tatiana grinned impishly. "If Jenna gets in, anyone can!"

Jenna pouted indignantly. "I am too a good dancer!" She mumbled, which was really an understatement. As dance captain on the Australian tour, she had understudied more roles than anyone and had taught dance since she was twenty-two, on top of the touring.

"As if anyone will believe that!" Tatiana chuckled, pausing to twist another bright band into her braided curly hair.

"Someone might." Kristov volunteered, flushing scarlet. "Like Father Christmas."

Tatiana doubled over with a snort of laughter, as Kristov's shade of red deepened. "Lordy! The boy made a joke about you, Jenna! If even our shy Kristov starts making jokes, what chance do you have?"

"That's it!" He hands on her hips, Jenna jutted out her small, pointed chin in annoyance. "For that, we will do the beetle's tattoo!" Stooping over her bag, she pulled out several pairs of tap shoes and tossed them to her friends with an evil chuckle.

"Yay!" Tatiana mumbled without enthusiasm, as she fastened the shoes on. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we present Jenna-enna-dots."

"Oh, haha." Jenna tapped her toes several times, wiggling her foot. "Attention!"

Leaping to attention, Kristov and Tatiana grinned at each other. This looked like it was going to be fun.

*

Tossing his basketball onto the floor, Mickey pulled his shirt of with a sigh of relief, as the damp material peeled away from his sodden torso.

Cropped white-blond hair glittered with drops of sweat, his blue eyes gazing beyond the window at the rest of Cape Town that sprawled as far as he could see. At least as far as he could see from his bedroom window.

Wandering out into the back yard, he threw himself into the cool pool, letting the water splash over his head as he kicked his feet lazily. Swimming to the end and clambering out, streams of water pouring off his close as he wandered back onto the patio and sat lazily down on the sun-warmed flagstones.

"How was practise?" His mother called from the kitchen.

"It was good." He replied, lying back, letting the sun add more to his already golden tan. "Tony and Josh tried to dodge me, but no one beats the dodger." He grinned as he said his school-yard nickname out loud. "The Dodger."

"That's good." His mother replied absently, her attention turning from her teenage son to the pile of groceries.

"It is good." Mickey repeated contentedly to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. "It's very good." Closing his eyes, he smiled.

*

Pushing himself again, Marco gave a low moan as a burst of pain erupted in his ankle. He needed to get this routine right, but it just wouldn't come together for him.

Sinking down against a wall wearily, he pushed his bleached hair out of his eyes, rubbing his aching ankle gingerly. The pain blossomed as he touched it again. This really did not look good at all.

"What's wrong?" Angelo looked around the door of the gym area, spotting the young athlete crouched on the floor, grimacing.

Marco hastily brushed tears of frustration from his olive eyes, clenching his jaw and struggling to his feet again. "Nothing's wrong." He lied, wincing again, leaning on the wall apparatus for support. "My ankles just acting up."

"Let me see." Angelo forced him to sit, gently lifting the swollen ankle into his lap. "Marco - you started training to early again. It needs to heal."

Staring defiantly at Angelo, Marco jutted out his jaw proudly. "I'm fine." He announced firmly, standing up. "I can still do my routines as well as I ever could. I'm going to make the squad for the next games – you see if I don't…"

To emphasise his words, he started to run, launching himself into a handspring with a twist only to drop to his knees as his ankle went out from beneath him, a low, guttural moan of pain breaking from his lips.

"Marco!" Running to his side, Angelo drew the sobbing Marco to his chest, stroking his hair gently. "You'll be fine. I know you will."

"Why do I let you be my doctor, on top of everything else?" Turning his tear-filled eyes to Angelo's, he touched his companion's Adonis-like face. "Can you just answer me that simple question?"

Kissing the trails of tears away, Angelo murmured. "Because you love me." He held his lover close, burying his face in the gaudy blond hair, his hands running soothingly down the muscles of Marco's torso.

"That's right." Marco murmured absently, his tears slowly drying. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Angelo."

"Have a serious problem." Tilting Marco's face up, he kissed him tenderly. "But I'm not going anywhere, so why worry?"

"Exactly." With an exchange of smiles, they got to their feet and slowly made their way out of the silent gymnasium.

*

Glancing over at the TV out of the corner of his eye, Jordan absently noticed the screen was flickering, but – as Maria called his attention to the dinner – he listened to the report with half his attention.

"Reports are coming in of weather phenomenons occuring in various parts of the world. It is not clear what has caused such phenomenons, but it is believed that they are the prelude to severe electrical storms and it is advised that everyone in the affected regions remain in their homes and do not attempt to travel.

Areas in the path of the phenomenons – that seem to be immobile at the moment – include Saint Petersburg in Russia, Tokyo in Japan, Cape Town in South Africa, the central counties of Ireland, California and Texas in the United States, the Southern tip of Norway and much of the United Kingdom.

Take all precautions to ensure the safety of property and persons in areas where effects of the phenomenons may be prominent."

"So much for going for a nice walk." Maria murmured dryly, handing him his plate. 

Jordan chuckled softly. "I can think of a lot more things we could get up to that are more...fun than going for a walk..."

"You'll have to enlighten me." Maria smiled naughtily.

Grinning, Jordan nodded. "You know I will!"

*

Outside, the storms grew in intensity and ferocity.


	2. The Newcomers: Book 2 - Part 2

Pushing the chair out from the desk, Sylvia brushed her greying honey-blonde hair back from her face, sighing , her fingers drumming impatiently on her desk, as she waited for the familiar click and whirr of her computer shutting down

Slinging their rucksacks over their shoulders, the trio of dancers exited the rehearsal studios, making their way down the dark stairway to the streets, still laughing from the exertion and fun they'd had playing out scenes from CATS.

"What are we goin' to do tomorrow?" Jenna asked, as she unlocked her car, letting her friends slide into the back seats, tossing their bags carelessly into the boot. "Same thing? Or do we want to do Saturday Night Fever."

"I wonder what your preference is." Tatiana grinned, winking at the shy teenager next to her.

"Did I detect a note of sarcasm there?" Jenna narrowed her eyes in feigned hostility, as she pulled out of the parking space and steering towards the main street, the darkness barely cut by the dim swathes of light from the lampposts.

Kristov chuckled at the looks the women exchanged. "She would never be sarcastic, Jenna." He put in, his face a mask of innocence.

"Oh, great." The Australian muttered in disgust. "And they say sarcasm isn't contagious. You've been spending too much time with that boy, Tat."

"You just watch the road." Tatiana grinned smugly, her heavy, braided hair falling around her dark face as she laughed merrily at Jenna's apparent annoyance, mischief sparkling in her deep brown eyes.

Pushing a cassette into the stereo, she glared at them both, then settled her eyes on the dark road, wondering for hundredth time why the small Russian streets never had sufficient lighting in weather like this.

Snow was piled by the sides of the dirt-strewn streets that were barely illuminated by the clouded face of the full-moon. Driving out of the town, she turned off into the hill road that led back to the small village she and her friends were staying in.

Half-listening to the conversation between her two friends, she turned briefly to give an answer only to turn back in time to see what looked like a gleaming surface of a puddle on the road moments before the tyres hit it and the car skidded out of control.

"Hold on!" She managed to spit out between gritted teeth, her hands frantically twisting the steering wheel, the brakes screeching and hissing under the pressure, as the car careened towards the roadside.

Pressing her palms against the roof, Tatiana braced her knees against the back of the passenger seat and managed to whisper with a trace of her biting humour. "If we survive this, I'm going to kill you."

"I know." Jenna hissed back, raising her arms over her head as they smashed through the crash barrier and plummeted over the edge of the cliff top road, the small car tossing and rolling, the metal tearing and ripping on the rocks.

Erupting into a blossoming fireball of gold as the car hit the rocky surface of the valley floor, then blue flames, the full tank of petrol ignited, lighting up the night sky in a rainbow of multicoloured blazes.

Lightening danced mockingly across the dark sky, flickering down the bleak shadows of the gully, where the destructive flames burned on long into the night.

The bodies of the trio were never found.

*

Sliding his arms around his wife's waist, Jordan buried his face in the rich mass of her dark red hair, his head pillowed on his arm, as she reached over and flicked the light off, curling snugly against him.

After spending half an hour online, they had taken notice of the storm warnings and had decided against using the computer in case anything happened.

Outside of their window, the street lamp flickered, guttering in the night, the rumble of thunder crashing across the sky making them both jump and instinctively cling to one another more.

"I hate storms." Maria mumbled sleepily, tracing her fingers across the back of his hands gently. "Specially when I wanna sleep."

"You want me to complain to the weather man?" Jordan teased gently.

With a vigorous nod, she muttered. "Yuh-huh. Tain't right. My wanna sleep…stoopid thunder…makin' big noise…"

"That's what it does, love." Her husband smiled slightly, leaning over to gently kiss her. "In case you hadn't noticed." Brushing his cheek along hers, he chuckled. "And it does it all to annoy you."

"I know." Yawning, she pulled his arms around her like a blanket, frowning as they were suddenly plunged into darkness, the row of street lamps outside their window all darkening simultaneously. "Jord?"

"It's just the storm." He tried to sound reassuring, feeling her roll and bury her face against his chest as a crash of thunder shook the house to the foundations, the sky illuminated by a sheet of lightening. "Just the storm."

Clinging to him, she knew instinctively that his eyes were pressed as tightly shut as her own and when the next roll of thunder and blazing flame of lightening seemed to descend from on high to engulf the house, her arms tightened around him and she whispered. "Liar!"

*

Connected to the chatroom from four corners of the earth, several people chatted animatedly about how their day had been going, about the insanity of the online world and about the storms that rumbled on outside.

In Rainham, near London, Timothy glared defiantly at the storm, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he argued about whether or not bapping someone with a herring could be counted as an offense in the Jellicle realm.

The hyperactive retort from Ireland was a decidedly happy. "No!"

"Don't be silly!" Was quickly sent in response, from California. "It only ever works if you use a mackerel and it has to be a week old and freshly stinky!"

In Texas, a woman under the pseudonym Glory smiled indulgently, intervening in as un-maternal a way as possible, trying to fight down the memories of her own lost children, as she joined in the conversation.

"Why do I keep on coming here? Am I insane or something?" A cheerful Norwegian asked, eliciting the usual responses.

"Ask a stupid question." Reajin, also known as Timothy Henlan, typed quickly, a wide grin on his dark face. 

Another name glinted up on the list of chat members.

"Hey Jinx!" The responses to Hiroko's arrival flitted up before she even had a chance to finish typing her opening greeting, swiftly followed by a query from Mercedes. "Jinx, do you think mackerel or herring?"

"Uh…herring." The Japanese woman grinned, typing swiftly. "Nice to see its just your average sane night in the chatroom."

The responses and chat flowed swiftly between the group, until there was a chat-wide frown and verbal exclamation of "What the…?"

"What is it?" Tadashi looked over from the computer he was still working on. 

Hiroko frowned again, drawing back from the screen to let him see. "I don't know. The screen – it's flickering…glowing…" It almost seemed as if the computers had come to life in some crazy way.

Simultaneously five pairs of hands unnervingly reached for the power button of the computers, but not swiftly enough, as lightening surged through the screens and engulfed each hand then the body attached to it and anyone who happened to be nearby.

And on opposite sides of the world, five computers powered themselves down, the seats in front of them empty, deserted.

*

Running off the court, Mickey grabbed an ice-cold bottle of water, downing several chilling mouthfuls rapidly, the sweat streaming off his body, a wide grin on his face as he glanced back at his team-mates, his substitute making easy work of their opponents.

Outside of the sports hall, the unseasonable rain pelted against the windows, the sky black as the thunder that rumbled through it, slashes of brilliant lightening lighting the darkness in a spectacular natural light show.

"Hey, Mick!" The ball sailed over his head, distracting him from the storm outside, rolling under the crowded seating. "Get the ball, will ya, buddy?"

"Why not?" Tossing his empty bottle in an easy slamdunk into the bin, he ran swiftly along the courtside, ducking under the creaky stands, his eyes growing accustomed to the darkness, as the game continued with one of the extra balls. Spotting the ball, he edged under, getting down on hands and knees to stretch under and reach for it.

On the court, one of his team-mates made a run for the net, leaping high and slamming the ball easily through the hoop.

Immediately, the audience leapt to their feet, swelling up with a cheer, the stands creaking and squeaking ominously.

With the ball under his arm, Mickey started back towards the opening that had crawled through, looking up as there was a pop, a screw bursting out of its holding, the entire stand squeaking and shifting under the weight of the standing fans.

One of the supports buckled above the teenager's head, shards of metal and wood raining down on him as he frantically crawled towards the opening, a trickle of blood running down his cheek from a gash on his forehead.

Above him, he heard another ominous cracking and wasted precious seconds to look up in time to see a main strut falling towards him, as the stand collapsed, the screams of the people on top reaching his ears then everything went dark.

*

Leaning against the railing, Marco sighed, the ache in his knee spreading through his body, a bitter tear trickling down his cheek, mingling with the steady flow of the rain.

All his life, he had wanted to be in the Olympics and he had trained day in and day out to make that dream a reality, but the one time it had looked like it might actually come true, he had injured his leg so badly, there was no chance.

He was simply too old. The only real skill he had was worthless to him now and that hurt him more than anything.

Leaning over the barrier, he looked into the roaring, speeding traffic pensively, waiting for his lover to bring the car around. Sitting up on the fence, he raised his head, letting the raindrops bombard him, as he waited.

Lightening flickered across the sky, seeming to edge closer and closer to him: An unnerving feeling. The thunder was soft, no more than a low growl from the sky, but the lightening – it lit up as far as the eye could see.

Further down the road, he heard the blare of a diesel horn and turned to say a Heavy Goods vehicle roaring down the narrow road, apparently out of control, swerving this way and that.

Before the young gymnast had a chance to jump backwards, off the fence and to safety, the massive lorry whirled into a spin, the tyres sending a spray in the air, speeding towards the terrified young man.

On impact, everything went softly dark, unconsciousness claiming him swiftly and silently, but when the police and ambulance finally arrived, there was no sign of his body, despite all of the witnesses.

Marco Santorelli was never seen again.

*

The first thing that Sylvia was aware of was the darkness, closely followed by the scent of fear and other bodies present, close by as well.

"Where…where are we?" A quavering young girl's voice spoke. 

A dim light beyond them allowed them to see the crouched bodies of a dozen figures piled into the room, some moving, others still, all of them alive and terrified.

Crawling towards the faint light source, the oldest of their number, Sylvia, tentatively pushed aside the brush and tangle of leaves and bushed that obscured the outside, the scent of nature assailing her senses as a wave of light poured in through the cave entrance.

"What the hell…?" Her gaze shifted from the bright blue skies outside, to the golden leaves and bushes surrounding the rocky entrance of the cave, then on to her own outstretched hands, a tremor of fear running through her body.

Behind her, she heard a rustle and turned to come face to face with a pair of golden eyes, set in a jet-black-furred visage, the gleaming whiskers twitching fearfully, tufted ears flattening back against her skull.

"What are we?" The soft voice came from the black-faced creature's lips, black, paw-like hands being raised and nervously looked at.

Sylvia trembled, reaching out to touch the black fur of the other woman's face, her golden fur rippling in the soft light. "We're cats." She whispered in disbelief. "Cats."


	3. The Newcomers: Book 2 - Part 3

Forcing aside the brush, the golden feline let the light pour into the cave, the heady scent of morning washing over all of them as their eyes slowly began to focus on the others around them

Forcing aside the brush, the golden feline let the light pour into the cave, the heady scent of morning washing over all of them as their eyes slowly began to focus on the others around them.

The black queen swiftly counted all of the other humanoid felines, coming up with fourteen in total, all terrified and tearful, in particular, two of the smaller queens who were clinging to one another desperately.

The gold queen – who had the strangest urge to call herself Glory – made her way across to the slight pair, rubbing gently against them, drawing them into her arms and reassuringly hugging them as she looked around at all of her other companions in consternation.

A tuxedo tom crouched in one corner, a beautiful red and white queen protectively cradled in his arms, apparently either asleep or unconscious. Glory was certain it was more likely to be the latter than the former.

Near her, there was a large tom with black- and ginger-striped fur, looking absurdly like an overgrown Garfield come to life. His arm was gently draped around a sobbing gold and black queen's shoulder. 

"How did we get here?" The gold queen found herself face-to-face with the black persian again, a tint of an Australian accent colouring the persian's voice. "I was in a car crash, but I didn't crash into insanity, did I?"

"It wasn't your fault, Jenna." A brown and white tom soothingly ran his head up her arm, his eyes gentle. "There was ice on the road."

"Jenna?" Glory frowned in confusion. "I thought your name was Siah…"

The black queen gave a little flick of her head. "It's strange." She murmured softly, her eyes wandering to her paws. "I know that my name is Jenna, but I feel like I should be called Siah."

"Like I'm Plato." The tom who was formerly Kristov nodded. "I think we all must have two different names…"

"No." Siah shook her head. "We have three different names!" Reciting the lines, she instinctively took up a very feline pose, her hands between her knees as she knelt up, her eyes fixed on a spot beyond the walls. "First is the name that the family use daily…Jenna, Kristov, Tatiana…"

"Sylvia." Glory nodded.

"But I tell you a cat needs a name that's particular." Two kittenish voices joined with Siah's from Glory's arms, both the tiny queens sitting up. "A name that's peculiar and more dignified…else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular or spread out his whiskers or cherish his pride?"

"You mean to tell me," A ginger and brown tom put in coldly. "That we've become freakin' Jellicles? Because we were online during a storm?"

"A computer did this?" Another quiet voice put in, a small queen peering over the shoulder of a large, brown- and white-patched tom. "Weren't we all in the same chatroom or something?"

The large ginger and black tom frowned. "There were six people in the chatroom, if I remember right. Me. Jinx." The multicoloured queen raised a paw. "Misty." The tortoiseshell queen in Glory's arms nodded. "Mercedes." The other kitten waved. "Glory." The gold queen smiled ruefully. "And Reajin."

"It's Ray-jin!" The ginger and brown tom growled indignantly. "Not Ree-ah-gin."

"My mistake." The larger tom agreed softly.

From the shadows of the cave, a new voice softly enquired. "Then how did the rest of us get here?" Stepping into the light, the tom's dark coat was a mottled mass of dark grey and jet black.

"I was with Jinx." The tom sitting in front of the colourful queen replied quietly. "I heard her say something about the computer and I went to look and next thing I knew, I was here." Looking around, he summoned a shy smile. "I'm Admetus."

The gold and black queen in the large tom's arms struggled into a sitting position. "I was in a car with Jen…I mean, Siah and Plato. We spun off the road and when I came round, I was lying here. And I was a cat." Flashing a weak smile, she added. "I'm Callista by the way."

"Would you believe that we had just gone to bed?" The black and white tom looked up from the unconscious queen in his arms. "I've heard of the Earth moving, but this is ridiculous." He brushed his fingers over the queen's cheek gently, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "She was so scared. She always hated storms."

A flicker of recognition flared in the large tom's eyes. "Jordan?"

"Kristian?" With a bitter laugh, the tuxedo tom shook his head. "All this because you couldn't track me down online. I told you that this lady was impatient." He stroked the soft fur of his wife's mane.

"Pig." She weakly muttered, curling closer to him, her cheek pressing against the soft white of his belly. Her dark green eyes slowly opened, gazing up at the feline face that loomed over her. "Givus a kiss, Wolfie."

Several furry eyebrows were raised. "Wolfie?"

With a sleepy nod, the queen smiled at her partner. "My little Wolfgang." She purred softly, butting her head under his chin lightly. Uncurling her body, her glossy fur gleamed in the cool light of day.

Deep red, a splash of creamy-white fur spread over most of her face and down her neck and chest to her waist, with rosettes of white dotted here and there on her coat. A single star-shaped spot of white marred the red of the back of her left paw.

"You are one helluva gorgeous queen, Estariolle." The tuxedo whispered in awe, his arms wrapping possessively around her body. 

"I'd agree with that!" A grinning tom ducked back in through the opening of the cave, his brown and gold fur coated with grass and leaves, his dark blue eyes dancing with good-humour. "What did I miss?"

"How we got here." Glory replied.

"Ah!" The tom chuckled. "I was squished by a set of basketball stands. They fell down and I just happened to be under them at the time." He shook his head ruefully. "So much for being the Dodger."

Reajin tilted his head. "That's your name?" He demanded.

"Guess so." The other tom grinned, stretching his body lazily. His tabby body was criss-crossed with stripes here, there and everywhere, his brown face patched with white, black and gold. "Whose Mister-strong-and-silent in the corner?" He gestured to the silent, dark grey tom who had first posed the question.

"Shadow." He replied quietly. "I was hit by a truck, if I remember right."

"Ouch!" Dodger winced in sympathy. "At least we're not dead, right?" He grinned around, noticing the crestfallen look on the massive ginger and black tom's face. "What's wrong, mate?"

Exhaling, the tom sighed. "It's not fair! Why can't I have a decent name? Why can't they give me something fun or different?"

"Huh?"

"What's your name, Kris?" Wolfgang asked. "It can't be any worse than mine…can it?"

"Oh it can…and it is." The former Norwegian replied miserably. "My name…" He paused dramatically. "Is…Tiddles!"

The two queens beside Glory started giggling, trying to hold it back by covering their mouths with small paws and the older queen could barely hold in her own laughter as she tried to say. "It's not…that bad."

"Why don't I believe you?" He asked mournfully, shaking his head with a sigh. "I mean, I wouldn't even care if I was called Garfield! Even something vaguely non-joke-worthy would be fine by me."

"We won't joke about it." Estariolle giggled. "Much."

"In that case…" The ginger and black tom pounced on the queen, tickling her furiously, ignoring her shrieks and squeals of despair and laughter. "I guess I'll have to make you laugh at something else!"

"You leave my queen alone!" Wolfgang leapt to his partner's defence, only to be tackled by a giggling Callista, who was closely followed by Jinx, Misty and Mercedes, each of whom brought a yowling tom into the fray, until only Glory and Reajin stood by watching, one looking amused, the other bored.

Glory allowed herself a small smile, as she watched the wriggling, giggling pile of younger cats. It looked like she was going to have a second chance after all with a whole new family of her own.


	4. The Newcomers: Book 2 - Part 4

Sitting on one of the low boulders, Glory's tail swished over the long grass, elbows propped on her knees, chin cupped in her paws

Sitting on one of the low boulders, Glory's tail swished over the long grass, elbows propped on her knees, chin cupped in her paws. The light breeze ruffled her fur, her nostrils flaring as she took in the scent of autumn.

A movement behind her caught her attetion. lancing over her shoulder, she found Reajin's ginger face barely feet from her. Flashing a tired smile, she patted the surface of the rock beside her. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." The tom prowled over and squatted down on his haunches beside her. "The kittens are sleeping." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the small group. Jinx, Dodger, Mercedes and Misty had fallen into a kitty-pile. 

Glory chuckled, flexing her arms with a yawn. "That's not such a bad idea." She remarked, stretching each leg slowly. "Its been a long day."

"Strange day too." He agreed. "How often can you say that you went online to chat and came off with fur and whiskers?"

She turned her paw over, flexed. Claws sprang from harmless-looking paws. "Or have things like these." She added, running a finger of her other hand along them. "I always wondered what they felt like."

Reajin chuckled. "I did actually come up here for a reason though, Glory." Turning serious, he gestured down to some of the elder members of the group. "They wanted to talk to you about food. We've got water, but food is...well, pretty damn important."

Shaking her fur back into place, the queen nodded, getting to her hind paws. "I'm not about to disagree there. There's only so many berries that I can eat without feeling like I wanna heave all over the nearest person's tail."

"Thanks for the warning." The ginger tom grabbed his tail between his paws, flashed a small grin at her and clambered back down the rocks to where the rest of the pack were waiting. The queen smothered a grin and followed him down.

Tiddles looked up from stoking the fire, nodded to her. The flames danced lightly, engulfing the small pile of firewood quickly. 

"Nice trick." She murmured, moving to sit beside the fire, the incoming night bringing the threat of the chill with it. Callista settled beside the gold queen, close enough for reassurance and warmth. Glory smiled gently down at her, ran a paw over the younger queen's head.

"Did Reajin tell you why we wanted you to come down?"

"Something about food?"

Wolfgang nodded. "There's bound to be something out there. Something meaty and...well, huntable." He flicked his claws out. "We haven't been given things like these for no reason, have we?" There were nods from around the circle. "We haven't just been brought here to die of starvation, so I say that tomorrow, some of us go out on a scouting party, but don't go too far from those caves." He gestured to the caves they had arrived in. "We don't want to lose our shelter unless we have to."

"Who died and made you king of the world?" Reajin snorted.

Siah shot a reproving look at the young tom. "He knows what he's talking about, Reajin." She said coolly, her ear twitching. "Winter's coming and if we don't have shelter – like those caves – we could die of exposure...unless we get out of here some time soon, which really isn't looking too likely."

Scratching at the dirt at his feet with his toe claws, Reajin growled softly, narrowed his eyes at the ground. "Right." He muttered petulantly.

The black queen and tuxedo exchanged wry glances. "You can lead the hunt party if you would like to, Reajin." Wolfgang suggested. "We'll need two leaders for the group. Would you be able to do that?"

"You think I couldn't?" The ginger tom raised his eyes slowly, accusingly. "You think I wouldn't be good enough."

"He didn't say that." Glory reached over, ran a hand down the young tom's arm gently. "He's asking if you want to do it. It would help the group and we need to know that you feel confident in it, okay?"

His features impassive in the dancing glow of the fire, the ginger tom nodded. "I'll do that, then." He said, leaning forward on his knees.

Wolfgang flashed a grateful smile at the golden queen. Estariolle was lying alongside him, his hand moving in light circles at the base of her back. "So, we need two parties. Preferably the biggest members of the group, until we know what we're against. Tiddles, you can lead the second group, if that's all right?"

The black and ginger tom nodded. "Five to a group sound good to you, Wolf? Then the others can stay here, see what else they can find closer to home."

"Sounds good." The black and white tom agreed, his mate's cheek rubbing against his thigh in a soft yawn. "I don't think the three girls should be pulled into the hunt. They're all too small to fight anything at the moment."

"Agreed." Plato nodded, thoughtfully swiping at his ear with his forepaw. "Who'll stay with them while the rest of us are hunting?"

"Glory?"

The gold queen shrugged. "I could do that." 

"Then all we need to decide is on an equal balance of strength in the two hunting parties." The black quee on the opposite side of the fire shook long strands of fur out of her eyes. "There's seven guys and three girls for hunting and I'm betting a lot of us are outta shape."

Tiddles raised a paw. "I could just fall on the things we hunt, if that helps." He suggested, a faint flicker of a smile creeping onto his lips.

Siah reached over and squeezed his paw. "See." She grinned, winking at him. "Size does matter." The gargantuan feline chuckled, a deep rumbling sound. "Anyways, what were we all before we came here? It might help us. I used to dance."

"I was a gymnast...I think that's what we were called." Shadow volunteered.

Callista frowned. "I...I danced. I remember dancing..."

"Me too." Plato nodded.

"I don't remember." Admetus stared pensively at the flames. "I'm trying to remember, but I can't think of the word. I used to sit at a box....press little squares....but I can't remember what we used to call it..."

A new face joined the circle. Yawning, Dodger looked around. "So is this closed discussion or free-for-all?"

"We're just planning hunting groups, according to strength." Reajin replied cagily. "I used to do a lot of exercise." The tall, ginger tom flexed his arms, pointed at the muscle. "See. I'm big and strong."

Arms around his knees, balancing on his toes, the multicoloured tabby frowned thoughtfully. "I used to do stuff. I'm kind of not able to remember what it was, but I know it was fun and it made me really tired. We used to throw a ball...had to hit something..."

"That would help with hunting." Wolfgang put in with a tired smile. "Okay. Our group leaders are Tiddles and Reajin." He gestured to the two largest toms in the group. "Now listen very carefully. I shall say zis only wance." Estariolle giggled sleepily, smacked his leg. "In Tiddles' group, we'll have Dodger, Callista, Estariolle and Admetus. Got that?"

The four felines nodded.

"And the rest," Wolfgang gestured to himself, Plato, Siah and Shadow. "Will be in Reajin's group. Any arguments?"

"I've got one!" Tiddles' paw rose again. "Why do I have to be stuck with your wife, Wolfie? I know you hate me, but I didn't know you hated me that much!" A pebble sailed from a red-furred paw and smacked the ginger and black tom right between the eyes. "Hoi!"

Sleepy green eyes glanced at him. "Serves you right, you cheeky bugger."

"Good shot, Star." Dodger applauded with a grin. "Betcha couldn't do it again." A small pebble promptly plopped him square on the nose. "Um..." Wiggling his nose, he squinted at her. "I take it back."

Pulling his wife up into his arms, Wolfgang smirked. "Don't you be a-messin' with my baby, boyo. She's had way too much practise throwing sharp and pointy implements." He bent to brush his forehead against hers. "Usually with me as the target."

"Gotta give credit to a violent family environment." Reajin said, staring at the fire, his toe claws working into the dirt at his feet. He shook himself, looked around. "So when do we start tomorrow? Dawn?"

"Dawn?" Callista and Tiddles wailed. 

"I think that means they think its a bit early." Wolfgang translated with a small grin. "But as soon as everyone is up, I say we get started." Several voices rose in agreement. "That's settled then. But, for now..." Getting to his feet, he pulled Estariolle up into his arms. "We're going to get some sleep."

"Hopefully, that'll be all." Siah winked, receiving a stuck-out-tongue from the tux. "Its not such a bad idea though. I wanna find a nice, decent patch of cave to sleep in. Anyone who wants to catpile with me, feel free."

"So its bedtime?" Tiddles' jaws widened in an immense yawn. "Good."

One by one, the little group around the fire dispersed, filing into the cave. Glory shook the three kittens awake, led them into the caves. As the moon rose, heavy in the sky, Reajin was the only one remaining outside.

Finally getting to his paws, he climbed the small incline, entering the warm cave. Nearest the entrance, Callista, Tiddles and Siah were huddled together. Dodger had joined Glory and the three kittens again. Estariolle and Wolfgang had crept into a smaller cave that opened off the main one, leaving Plato, Admetus and Shadow in a large pile of rainbow fur.

Making his way passed them, Reajin found a bare spot of floor at the back of the cave, curled up, his head pillowed on his arms, and fell asleep.

*

Squatting beside the stream, Dodger plunged his paws into the cold water, giving a yelp at the bitter chill. 

"Cold?" A voice inquired from alongside him. He cocked his head, found Callista grinning at him, her eyes dancing merrily. He blinked, then yelled as she splashed some more water onto his fur.

"Hey!"

Gold eyes blinked at him innocently. "What? You'd missed a spot."

"Still," He dabbled his paw in the water. "It wasn't very nice. Now, I'm going to have to..." He threw a handful of water in her face. "Reciprocate." The queen's shriek only grew louder as he tackled her, practically throwing her into the stream.

Unfortunately for the tom, she caught his arm, held tight and pulled him under with her.

Surfacing with squeals and giggles, the pair struggled with one another, Callista succeeding in ducking the young tom two more times before managing to clamber out of the water, shaking the chilly liquid out of her tangled fur.

"Well," She ran a paw over her head, smirked. "That was...bracing..."

Dodger blinked, pushing soaked strands of over-long fur out of his eyes. "That was cold, you mean." He corrected, twitching his whiskers. Wringing his paws, he shook a fine spray over the black and gold queen, sniggering at her shriek of annoyance.

"Let me guess." She glared at him in a fine display of feigned anger. "The water just happened to slip from your fur and jump onto me?"

"Got it in one." He winked. Offering her a hand, they grinned at one another, then walked back to the main 'camp, where most of the other felines were starting to awaken. Glory had succeeded in pulling the three sleepily-protesting kittens out into the sun.

Not that it had done any good.

The trio had found a sunny spot, promptly bunched together and fell asleep once again. The gold queen threw her paws in the air, exclaimed that she gave up, dropped down on the grassy verge beside them and fell asleep too.

"Now don't you just hate that?" Callista gestured to the four queens in annoyance. "We're about to go out and put our asses on the line and they get to sleep in the sun all day." She pouted. "I wanna stay and sleep in the sun."

Dodger chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. "On the plus side, Call," He gave her a wide grin. "You get the pleasure of my company on the hunt, this wonderful afternoon."

Staring at him, she blinked. "And that's meant to be better how?"

"Because," He stuck a pose, flexing his upper body. "I'm too sexy for my fur." She couldn't stifle a giggle. "See! You're gonna be stuck with, my gorgeous self and I all day. How could you not have a good time?" Blue eyes twinkled with self-depreciating laughter.

Callista smacked him across the head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a conceited, self-centred ape?"

"Plenty of times!" He paused, barely smothering a grin. "Why?"

"Don't you think they're trying to tell you something?"

The broad white stripe down the centre of the tom's forehead rippled as he frowned, clearly deep in some kind of thought. "A-ha!" He held up a paw. "I know what they're trying to tell me! They're jealous! That's what they are!"

"Are you two ready to go?" Reajin was pacing impatiently back and forth. The rest of the hunt-squad were standing around, talking quietly too. 

"Heil Hitler." The tabby muttered under his breath, looping Callista's arm through his. "Yes, Reajin." Raising his voice, he replied politely. "We're ready to go when you are. Just remember which team you're the leader of."

The ginger tom shot a venemous look in the tabby's direction, prowling to the lead of the little group of felines. 

"Don't annoy him." Wolfgang cautioned the tabby softly, pulling back with Estariolle. "Things are going to be hard enough around here. Just let him do what he likes. It'll keep him quiet and stop arguments."

Dodger nodded reluctantly. "Doesn't sound fair." He muttered. Callista nodded. "I guess we'll have to stick with it, huh?"

"Looks like it." The gold and black queen agreed. "But first," She rubbed her paws together gleefully. "Lets go find us some food."


	5. The Newcomers: Book 2 - Part 5

"Holy crap

"Holy crap!"

"No need to be negative just because its gonna kick our arses."

Reajin shot a glance in the tuxedo tom's direction, half-smiled. "You're completely barmy, you know, Wolf. And the encouragement thing...you really have to work on that." The black and white tom smirked. "So...here's what we do..."

Following the ginger tom's gestures and whispered directions, the four other felines spread around the clearing, moving as silently as they could. The soft breeze rustling the trees and muffling the sounds of their paws was a blessing.

Muddy green eyes focused on the massive, cow-like beast. Reajin shifted his paws warily, his tail whipping back and forth, a clear sign of his uneasiness. His claws slid out as he flexed his tangled fur-coated paws.

Oblivious to the danger it was in or the danger it created, the huge beast snuffled at the long tangles of grass, its gaping jaws opening up and tearing up huge crops of the fading green plantlife.

Shadow whistled softly. "Look at the size of those legs." He breathed, saw Wolfgang nod in acknowledgement. Whatever the thing was, its six rippling, muscular legs clearly posed the biggest threat.

Following another gesture from the ginger tom, they edged in closer, unnoticed amid the shadows and tangles of the shrubbery surrounding them.

Exchanging glances with the two felines on the opposite side of the clearing, Reajin nodded once, all five exploding from the bush and launching themselves at the startled beast, which started bellowing.

Wrapping her arms and legs around the animal's forelegs, Siah pressed her eyes shut. Her head raised as high as she could manage, she sank her teeth into the shaggy chest and held on for dear life.

Reajin had launched himself onto the bucking beast's back, his jaw locked onto its neck, both paws under its chin, jerking its massive head back. His toe claws plunged into the shoulders of it's forelegs, its blood splashing on his fur.

Bellowing with fury and pain, the other three toms were unfortunate enough to be in the aim region of the surprisingly fierce bison-like creature's hind legs.

A hoof skimming his hip, Plato hissed, diving to one side and knocking Shadow with him. The flailing hind hooves whistled dangerously close to where their heads had been, both toms panting heavily.

"I-I-I-I-I..." Shuddering with each punding step of the giant hooves on the ground, Siah's voice jolted. "Th-i-ink...s-s-s-some...h-h-h-help...w-would...be...n-n-n-nice..." She didn't sound very scared, but her body betrayed her, arms tightening around the huge legs.

"Plato..." Shadow gestured to the beast's back. The brown and white tom nodded an affirmative, weaving his paws together. The grey tom placed one hind paw in the other tom's cupped paws, using a combination of leverage from both of them to launch himself up behind Reajin on the bison's back. "Hey, man."

The ginger tom barely nodded, his mouth still latched onto the animal's thick throat. On the other side of them, Wolfgang was stabbing at the widely spaced ribs with a makeshift spear, blood running in ruby rivulets down the matted fur.

"The ribs, Shadow." Ducking under another sweeping blow of the hind hooves, the tuxedo gestured to the action he had been making. The sooty tom nodded, his paws loosening their grip on the rug-like fur and dropping swiftly to the animal's side, claws snapping out and through the flesh, which wasn't nearly as tough as the hide across the back.

The tri-horned bison bellowed with pain, a spurt of blood erupting from its spittle-flecked mouth and spraying over the black queen who was clinging to its forelegs.

With a kick that seemed almost supernatural in its strength, both Shadow and Reajin were tossed from the broad back, the beast's small, black eyes focusing immediately on the two toms sprawled on the ground.

Swinging its hooves up, Plato flew backwards behind the creature and smashed into the trunk of a tree, falling in a heap at the base of the trunk. A trickle of blood curled from his lips, his eyes closed.

Wolfgang's spear was suddenly ineffectual, the bison's desire to survive blocking out any pain it must have been feeling. Massive hooves carved up chunks of turf, bloody bellows of challenge aimed at the toms before him, the young queen doing her best to prevent it moving.

The huge, shaggy head swung downwards, the broad jaw smashing her across the temple, her grip wavering.

"Don't mess with the fur, bitch." The black queen hissed between her grit teeth, forcing her claws deeper into the muscles of the legs. She shot a helpless glance in the direction of Wolfgang, who was still diving in and stabbing at the thick hide.

Reajin's shaky voice suddenly yelled indignantly, the black queen forcing her head up in time to see a multi-coloured blur drop from a tree above them and land squarely on the back of the animal she held, pinioned.

A black and a gold paw slid around the thick throat, along the jaw and gave one swift, hard jerk, the huge head yanked back with all the newcomer's strength. Something made a sickening crack, the body seizing up for a moment before sagging to it's knees and slumping forward. Siah jumped clear just in time.

Rising shakily on her knees in the dirt, her paws spread on her thighs, panting, she raised her head to their rescuer. 

"Looked like you guys could use a paw." Dodger grinned widely, stepping easily off the carcass and dusting his fur down. "You all okay?"

"We were doing fine." Reajin was leaning heavily against a tree trunk, sepia eyes narrowed to slits. "You should have stayed with your party."

The striped taby raised his paws, stepped back. "Look, man, I just wanted to help. No harm, no foul, right? You're all alive and we got us one hell of a piece of meat there." Sinking to his knees, he crawled to Siah's side, brushed his cheek along hers. "You okay, lady?"

She nodded weakly, unable to find breath to speak. 

"Dodger's right, Reajin." Wolfgang put in quietly. He was kneeling alongside the unconscious Plato, the taller tom's head cradled carefully in his arms. "If he hadn't come along, I don't know what we would have done."

The ginger tom's jaw locked, his eyes flicking from the tuxedo to the tabby. "Yeah." His voice was cold, clipped. "I guess you might be right. I screwed up this time." Stalking across to Wolfgang's side, he pointedly stared at Dodger as he said. "I won't do it again."

"Whatever." Shadow got to his paws and limped towards the carcass. "Um...guys...tell me something..." He pointed to a large, slime-coated heap on the ground. "Is that big, lumpy thing what I think that big lumpy thing is?" The aforementioned big, lumpy thing shifted. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What trouble have you guys been getting into?" Tiddles' large figure pushed through the brush, a reprimanding look shot in the kneeling Dodger's direction. "One minute, we were sniffing around the bushes and next thing we know, goldielocks there took off, yelling that you needed help."

Siah managed to wave at the carcass. "Bloody big cow..." She managed to say, raising a shaky hand to her bleeding temple. Tiddles was by her side in an instant, as the rest of his group filtered in.

"Are you okay?" He queried, brushing her soft quiff of black fur back from her eyes. She nodded, letting him draw her into a reassuringly warm and soft hug, her body aching from her ears to the tip of her tail.

"All she did was give it a hug." Dodger ran a paw soothingly down her smooth back. "Nice battle strategy, Siah."

"Not good as yours." She mumbled, head pillowed on Tiddles' chest, eyes closed tiredly. 

"Question." Shadow waved from his position beside the carcass and lump. "Which of us was it that made the cow have a baby?"

Dodger raised his paws defensively. "Hey! Don't look at me! I don't work that fast! I have to be on first name terms first!" The black queen chuckled weakly, the tom receiving a cuff across the head from the black and gold queen. "What? He asked!"

"So...what we gonna do with a cow baby?" Shadow looked around helplessly. "I mean...its still moving...do we keep it?"

"You mean it really had a baby?" Estariolle looked over from where she had joined her mate and the stirring Plato. "You didn't do a caesarion on it did you? Or did it just fall out on its own? And you killed a pregnant cow? How could you?"

"Well, it did almost kill us."Wolfgang raised one paw to massage his mate's neck lightly. "I think we were justified."

"Do we keep it?"

"I guess so. Don't know how, but I suppose we could use it for something." Rubbing one hand over the dazed Plato's forehead, Wolfgang paused, his black eyes sinking closed. Seeming to jolt, he lifted his head, eyes glowing eerily. "We better butcher the mum and get it back to camp as soon as possible."

Plato nodded, suddenly strangely bright. "Sounds like a good idea, Wolf." Rolling onto his feet, the brown and white tom grinned, bouncing over to Shadow's side.

The black and white tom trembled slightly as he got to his feet, his motion only noticed by him red-furred mate. She frowned. "Wolfie, what did you do to him?"

"I don't know." Turning his paw over, he stared at the white ring of fur in the centre of his palm, shaking his head. "You don't think..."He lowered his voice, gazed at her. "You don't think I could be a magical cat...you know...like Mistoffelees?"

She gave him a fond smile, helping him to remain upright. "You're always magic to me, Wolf, you know that." Rising on her toes, she rubbed her mottled red and white forehead against his. "But..." Her voice was low, barely more than a soft, warm breath that made his whiskers twitch. "You better be careful...don't want you damaging...parts..."

The look in her dark eyes made his stomach flip over and it was only Dodger's shout that brought them back to the reality.

"Oi! You two! Stop with the goo-goo eyes and help us chop up the dead cow!"

Estariolle chuckled wryly, returning her arm to her mate's waist, his chin resting lightly on the top of her head. "Nothing like a round of butchery to shatter the romance, eh, love?" She scratched the top of his tail, smiled.

"I'll have to make that up to you them." He murmured, her tail practically spasming with pleasure at the whispered promise. Exchanging small smiles, they made their way over to help in the butchering of the cow.

The sooner they got back to their part of the cave, the better.

*

"It smells weird." Peering at the carcass, Mercedes pulled a face. "And it looks weird too."

Carving a chunk of steaming flesh off the bone and tossing it to Tiddles, who had restoked the fire, Glory wagged a finger at the younger queen. "Don't be ungrateful, young lady." She cautioned fondly. "It'll look weirder once you've eaten it."

Misty prodded at the thick hide with her toe claws. "What we gonna use this for? Do we eat it?"

Dodger shook his head. "We can make coat out of it." He suggested, running one hand over the matted fur. "If we get the knots out of it, it could be warm for us to use during the winter. God only knows how cold it'll get."

"Sounds like a good idea." Curled on her side beside him, Callista yawned, her teeth glinting in the morning twilight. Rolling onto her back, she gazed up at the expanse of the sky. "What time of year do you think it is here?"

"Head's up!" A wedge of sizzling meat sailed through the air. Dodger sprang upwards, caught it mid-flight and landed neatly back down on his haunches. Tiddles grinned and turned back to the other chunks of meat balanced around the fire.

Accepting the meat from the young tom, Jinx smiled shyly. "I think its autumn." She answered his earlier question, before delicately tearing a strip of dripping flesh of the hunk of meat clasped in her striped hands. "I've seen some leaves falling..."

"So we arrived just in time for winter?" Siah pulled a face. "They could have at least given us a nice, sunny day or two to get started." Another lump of meat flew through the air, deftly caught by the black queen. "At least we know we got food though...and a baby cow with six legs..."

Tiddles whistled sharply, several of the other felines emerging from the caves to join the little group near the fire. "Well, I say we take each day as it comes. For all we know, we could be stuck here a very long time." His nostrils flared, taking in the soft scent of coming evening. "Not that that would be a bad thing."

"It's better than the city." Dropping down beside Glory, Reajin flicked his claws out, flashed a shy smile at the queen. Taking over her shreeding of the meat, he only paused to look around. "Where are Wolf and Estariolle?"

Glory gave the young tom a knowing nod. "They needed some...time alone."

*

In the shallows of the pool, Estariolle sighed contentedly as the cool water rippled around her hips. Her fur waved softly in the light current, Wolfgang's hand wrapping reassuringly around hers, leading her to the edge.

Raising her head, she gazed at the rapidly darkening sky, her grip on her mate's hand tightening a little. Above them, the glowing moon hung heavily, brilliant white against the velvet darkness of the night. "It's gorgeous."

"Like you." A purr thrummed through the black and white tom's dark body, his black eyes fixed on the red queen's lovely face. Drawing her closer, her body warm and damp against his, he brushed a light kiss over her lips, drawing back as she giggled. "What's so funny?"

One red paw batted his whiskers, making his nose twitch. "They tickle."

"Are you complaining?" Tumbling her onto the soft, springy grass, he nuzzled down her throat, his teeth nipping lightly at her neck. 

Swatting at him lightly, she trailed her tongue up his cheek. "We should head back to camp now, Wolf." Black eyes met green, one red paw trailing up a muscular back. "The food...it'll probably be ready by now..."

His lips met hers in a hungry kiss. "I have all I want right here." He whispered, drawing his dazzling, red-furred mate into his arms, all thoughts of the rest of the tribe pushed to the farthest corners of his mind.

He could think of the rest of the tribe later.

For now, he had something far more important to take care of.


End file.
